


darkness and winter roses

by questionably_fortunate_bamboo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionably_fortunate_bamboo/pseuds/questionably_fortunate_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five women Jon sees after he dies, and the one who sees him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	darkness and winter roses

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece on A03, yay! I wanted to play around with the idea of Jon seeing these women who have (more or less) been a part of his life, but when he's dead. My favorite part is the end, but hopefully it's all okay! Enjoy.

one

 

He’s in Castle Black and the world is frozen around him. The people are caught mid-movement, legs paused mid-step and hands stretched out. It’s like he’s caught in a painting.

 

A flash of color and movement catches his eye. On the steps in front of the mess hall, a young girl sits and watches the landscape. Her dull grey dress has flames crackling around the edges, slowly eating away at her flesh. Pieces of her legs start to darken and crack away.

 

“Who are you?” asks Jon. She makes no reply, instead playing with a charred wooden stag.

 

“You’re Stannis Baratheon’s daughter,” he says. “The princess.”

 

She looks at him, sad eyes finding a pale young man with blood running down his tunic and into the dirt. The princess opens her mouth, but an older woman’s voice comes out.

 

“You have no idea what people will do,” she says, her face beginning to turn black and fall away like sand. “All your books and you still don’t know.”

  
  


two

 

Jon blinks, and now he is in an alley with beggars and peddlers lining the side of the street. People are moving by, talking animatedly, paying no notice to him. The air is warm and smells of salt water.

 

As he walks down the stony path, his leg bumps against someone sitting on the ground. It’s a little beggar girl, holding a bowl with two coins. She wears a sack, and her dark hair is grimy and covered in dirt and spatters of blood.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and she turns her head towards his voice. Jon stumbles back in horror. Though her eyes are a strange, milky white, he recognizes her face immediately.

 

“ _ Arya _ ?”

 

“A girl has no name.” Her voice is the same. He wonders if Arya is dead as well, and even in the next life she’s a pain in his arse.

 

“Arya,” he says, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. “What happened to you?”

 

“A girl is no one,” she says. His heart pumps in his chest, or at least he imagines it does.

 

“Stop it,” Jon insists, “you’re scaring me. It’s me, Arya, it’s Jon.” Arya pulls away from his grasp and repeats herself.

 

“A girl is no one.”

  
  


three

 

He realizes, with a shudder, that this is not the Winterfell he grew up in.

 

Bolton banners are flying from the towers and strange people fill the courtyard.  _ This was not the place that he loved.  _ He walked down the corridors of the Great Keep, fingers brushing against the stone walls or the wooden doors. It’s silent, except for the sound of a woman crying.

 

Jon finds her curled up on a bed, clad in only a white nightgown. Her food is on her table, completely untouched. The only light in the room comes through a crack between the shutters.

 

She sits up and turns to him, and he feels his heart break into ten thousand pieces. Sansa’s red hair is mangled, her cheeks stained with tears. The rest of her skin is painted with dark purple bruises and ugly red cuts.

 

“Jon,” she whispers, “Jon, you have to help me.” She crawls out of bed and tiptoes over to him, clutching his arm. Her fingers are cold as ice.

 

“I will,” says Jon. He doesn’t care if they’re alive or dead, she’s his sister. And she’s been beaten and tortured and he’ll  _ kill  _ the man who did this to her.

 

“Help me,” she says again, louder. He nods.

 

“Yes. I’ll help you, Sansa. Tell me what to do.”

 

“Jon!” Her fingernails dig into his skin as she yells at him. “You have to  _ help me _ ! Help me, Jon! Do something!” She grabs his face and shakes him roughly.

 

“Sansa, stop-”

 

“ _ HELP ME! HELP ME, JON, DO SOMETHING, YOU HAVE TO HELP! _ " 

 

Jon's voice stops working as his sister's battered figure fades away, her screams lingering and ringing in his head.

 

 

four

 

"...all because I couldn't love a motherless child."

 

Catelyn Stark's aged figure is perched on a rock. She's looking at a younger woman with dark hair and olive skin. Jon wishes he could reach out and touch her, hold her hand, tell her that nothing was her fault and that she could hardly be blamed for treating him the way she had.  _I might have done the same if I were you,_ he thinks. How could he hate her for loving her own children more than some stranger's son? 

 

Her eyes lock on his suddenly, and her face is overcome with grief.

 

"Forgive me," she whispers. Jon smiles, shaking his head.

 

"There's nothing to forgive," he says. He thinks she might smile, but instead her gaze wanders over the trees and back to her hands. And just like that, he is invisible again. 

 

_ Oh, how sweet it would be to have a mother. _

 

__

five

 

They should've stayed in that cave. And there she is. Swimming in the pool of warm water, rinsing off her hair and smiling at herself.

 

"Ygritte," he says, a smile lighting his face. She doesn't hear him, and Jon swears he can hear a pang in his heart. He wants to hold her and kiss her and do all sorts of things that she'd tease him about the next day.

 

They should've stayed there, truly, they should've. He'd never think about the Night's Watch again, nor his duty or honor. All those dreams of being a hero would never cross his mind. Just Ygritte. Only Ygritte.

 

"You know nothing, Jon Snow," says Ygritte, as if speaking to herself. Jon feels a tear run down his cheek. He didn't know anything, for if he did, they might still be alive.

 

 

\+ one

 

Jon doesn't recognize this woman. She stands in a field of snow, dark curls cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes are a deep brown like his, and she feels oddly familiar, like a piece of him that he never knew was missing. She wears a cloak and a crown of winter roses, the blue making her pale skin seem even colder.

 

"My boy," she says, holding out her arms. "Oh, my boy." 

 

Her voice calls to him, and he steps forward and wraps his arms around her. She looks to be almost his age, but she  _feels_ older. And suddenly, he knows exactly who this strange woman is.

 

"Mother."

 

"Oh, my sweet Aemon. Look how you've grown."

 

"My name is Jon, mother," he says. She pulls away and studies his face. When she smiles, he feels like he's home again.

 

"Your Uncle Ned kept his promise, didn't he?" she murmurs, running a hand through his hair. "But you are my son. You will always be my son."

 

"I don't understand. Ned Stark is my father," he says. She shakes her head.

 

"No, Aemon, he's not," she tells him. "I see none of Rhaegar in you. You are my son, my only child. Remember that."

 

"Who are you?" asks Jon, clutching onto her arm desperately. "Lord Stark never told me your name."

 

His mother smiles sadly, stroking his cheek. "Lyanna. But I am your mother first and foremost, do you understand me?"

 

"Yes," he says, "of course." The name is one that he has only heard a few times, but it doesn't matter. He has his mother now.

 

"Good. Oh, little Aemon, you were only a babe when last I saw you. I am so proud of the man you have become."

 

"Aemon. Like Maester Aemon. Is that my name? The name you gave me?"

 

"Oh, aye. But you have to go now, you can't stay."

 

Jon frowns. "No, mother, I want to stay with you." But already he could feel something tugging, pulling him away.

 

"Go, there's so much you must do. I'll see you again," Lyanna says. Jon reaches out for her but she's already so far away.

 

"No, mama,  _please_ ," he begs like a frightened child. "Mother, I won't leave you!"

 

When he wakes, there's nothing but a cold, empty room and the faint memory of winter roses.


End file.
